


Reaching Out Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [80]
Category: International Wrestling Syndicate, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (anyway), (can everyone just stop with the dam chairs?), (i've been writing that goddamn tag a lot lately), (like forever?), (that isn't really a heel turn), (they tried though and that is all that matters), Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Chair Shots, Codependency, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Run-ins, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, heel turn, obligatory Kevin Steen warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: A tiny baby luchador has some very hard decisions to make.





	Reaching Out Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Okay, so we're going back in time a bit. This one takes place right after Forever Drifting (the one in which Kevin goes off to Japan) and it involves one of their first acts of very public melodrama. Well, one of the first really over the tops ones, anyway. Everything they did when they were babies was crazy melodramatic.

Kevin raises an eyebrow at the heavy glare he is getting from the dumbass blond sitting (and pouting like a bitch) as far across the locker room from Kevin as he can get. Kevin considers letting him stew, but the temptation to start shit is too strong as usual, so he opens his mouth, rolling his shoulders in preparation for a fight.

“The fuck are you looking at, you bleached out street rat? Do I have something on my face, or are you trying to scrounge up the courage to ask me for a fuck?” He barks, planting his feet on the damp tile floor, snapping his neck until he hears a satisfying crack.

Beef growls something in the back of his throat, and Kevin leans forward, feeling a deep sense of smugness that this whole disaster turned out exactly as badly as he had always told the two morons that it would.

Cupping his ear with his hand, Kevin grins viciously, leaning across the room towards Beef, watching the way the fool’s eyes sparkle with rage out of the corner of his eye.

“What was that, Pork Chops? I can’t hear what you are mumbling, over the sound of you and Generico getting your asses stomped by a scrawny twink and a gothic nursemaid. You wanna run that one by me again?”

“Fuck you Steen! If you hadn’t-”

Kevin puffs up on instinct, anger bubbling up in his gut, even as he suppresses the urge to kick Beef’s scrawny ass from here to Reseda. He bites back the temptation though, choking on the impulse to react violently for the time being.

_ -smooth- _

(trying to piss him off)

(why is he so fucking good at making me angry?)

_ -because you have aggression issues?- _

(fuck off)

(everything that comes out of his duck-lips is infuriating)

_ -dramatic- _

“Beef, don’t fucking lay the blame at my goddamn feet. You and that masked idiot are the only ones to blame for your own incompetence. Don’t get mad at me because you and him gel in a tag team about as well as oil and water.”

Beef stalks forward, slamming his hands down on the back of the couch  that Kevin commandeered for himself.

“This is all your fucking fault in the first place! Why won’t you just  _ talk _ to him? You know how much he fucking  **misses** you, and yet you dangle yourself around in front of his face, always one more favor away. You are such an asshole, it’s unbelievable!”

Kevin just barely stops himself from ripping himself up off the couch and whirling on Beef. He grinds his teeth instead, gnawing on his bottom lip and squeezing the life out of one of the faded threadbare throw pillows, as he tempers his furious need to slam Beef through the nearest set of lockers for even bringing  **_that_ ** up right now.

(who the fuck does he think he is-)

_ -Sami’s friend?- _

(some friend he is)

_ -pot, kettle, black- _

(shut up)

“He’s so goddamn morose and sad all the damn time right now, and your stupid ass doesn’t even  _ care _ . Jesus, he deserves better than-”

“Hey Beef, how’s... uh. Hi.”

(for god’s sake)

_ -at least the little sunbeam has excellent timing- _

Kevin does stand up now, the soft lilt in  **_that voice_ ** making him antsy. He tears himself up off the sofa, spinning around rapidly before the fool can even stammer anything out of his moron mouth.

“Fuck this. I’m out.”

“Wait, Kevin-” Sami babbles, actually shifting his body over in the doorway, trying to block Kevin’s escape route.

_ -escape route?- _

(...tactical retreat?)

_ -right- _

**_-coward-_ **

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Beef groans, earning a middle finger from Kevin. Sami opens his mouth, but Kevin plants his hands ever so briefly on those scrawny shoulders, pushing Sami out of his way, squeezing just a little Too Hard.

Kevin stamps down the urge to get lost in the soft pained noise that escapes Sami’s lips, though the fool lets out a louder, even more distressed wail when Kevin forcefully removes him from his path and stalks out of the room, leaving the two imbeciles behind to work on their shitty tag team strategy together.

_ -bitter- _

(not)

(fuck you)

(...why the hell is  **_he_ ** teaming with Beef’s uninteresting ass, of all people?)

_ -who’d you rather  _ **_him_ ** _ be teaming with?- _

(not…)

_ -yes?- _

(not Beef)

_ -got that part- _

_ -anyone else you’d rather  _ **_him_ ** _ be tagging with?- _

(...no.)

_ - _ **_you_ ** _ are stupider than  _ **_either of them_ ** _ - _

* * *

_ -seriously?- _

(this bitch…)

_ -could he be any more obnoxious- _

“Beef, what the fuck do you think you are-”

Kevin doesn’t get any more words out, as Beef launches his stupid ass across the ring, hopping over Damian’s prone body and crashing into Kevin with enough force to drive them backwards. Kevin steadies himself, but only just barely, wobbling where he stands and trying to stay somewhat upright, the exhaustion from the matching making him stumble.

Beef is relentless through, seemingly having recovered his second wind after his loss earlier. He kicks Kevin and goes in for a slam, Kevin only just dodging in time. He catches Damian rolling out of the ring, fucking off, no doubt so that he can be spared this b-team level drama.

“Come on tough guy! You think you’re so much better than everybody, prove it!” Beef snarls, more anger in his voice than Kevin is expecting. It makes his own hackles rise, his blood boiling at this Hogan-wannabe mark calling him out on anything, much less things that Beef knows absolutely  _ nothing _ about.

“What the fuck? I thought you were mad at me for ignoring your ginger girlfriend-” Kevin starts, clocking Beef, and getting a mouth full of blond headbutt for his troubles.

“Ooh, there’s the patented Steen jealousy, coming right from the horse's mouth! Yeah, Kevin, why don’t we talk about the fact that you hate Sami spending time with anyone who isn’t you!” Beef shrieks, way louder than necessary, swinging wildly with the chair in his hands.

“Maybe that’s because I’m  **_way_ ** fucking better than  **all** of you assholes, did that ever cross your tiny, fetal-alcohol syndrome’d brain? Why the hell should he be wasting his time on you pieces of shit?” Kevin spits out before he can stop himself, the force of the words knocking the wind out of him more than either the match or the scuffle with Beef. He staggers backwards a bit, trying to let his brain catch up to the stupidity that just came gurgling out of his own mouth against his will.

(shit)

_ -maybe a  _ **_little_ ** _ much- _

(you think?!)

_ -i mean- _

_ -where was the lie- _

Fuck.

Beef laughs, dropping the chair and posturing, holding his arms out and indicating the confused audience. “See? Do you see what I mean? He thinks that he is so beyond our little pocket of heaven here. He thinks that he is so much better, and bigger and more talented, that he deserves the big times. Kevin steen is going to throw you all under the bus, and leave for the fame and fortune without so much as a backwards glance at all the time and effort you invested in him. And he’s going to take Generico with him when he abandons us for greener pastures.”

_ -still no lies in there- _

Kevin honestly doesn’t really see the problem with anything that Beef just said, but it seems to piss the crowd off for some reason. Kevin sneers at them as they start heckling.

(whatever)

(like they are worthy of either of us)

_ -let’s be honest- _

_ -especially  _ **_him_ ** _ - _

“Suck a whole goddamn burlap sack of dick, you brainless cow. I don’t fucking need your permission to do anything. I’ll go when and where I please. You jealous, slacker pissants can all go choke to death on your own bitter resentment.” Kevin throws Beef off him, snatching up the fallen chair.

Beef takes the hit with a sardonic sneer, something about the smug superiority in his face pissing Kevin off even more. Kevin rolls his shoulders, the anger almost too much to bear, the fact that he was not nearly this angry at Damian but a moment ago not lost on him.

He hurls Beef across the ring, the thought crossing his mind that Beef is suddenly so passive because he is making a point, and that Kevin is playing right into his hands. Still, Kevin has made it this far, he might as well finish the job.

Right?

_ -wrong, apparently- _

The crowd swells abruptly, and a flash of color dashes into Kevin’s vision, just as he is poised to wreck Beef’s shit with the cold steel in his hands. Kevin hesitates under the stare of those piercing eyes, halting long enough for the chair to be torn out of his grip.

Generico stands there, breathing hard and looking torn, his skin flushed and his eyes bright with something that makes Kevin’s blood pressure skyrocket. He leans closer, getting in the scrawny idiot’s face, inscenced that the moron is even out here, interfering in-

“This doesn’t fucking involve you! Get out of here, this is not about you!” He snarls, shoving Generico and getting shoved in turn, the shimmer in those eyes igniting into an inferno at Kevin’s words, the molten heat coming off that frame tuning the air around them into flame. Kevin lets himself be shoved back into the turnbuckle, panting into the suffocating air and returning the seething glare that he is getting from his electric companion.

“Everything is about us!” Generico (Sami? Kevin can’t tell) barks viciously, shoving Kevin into the corner with authority, turning around towards Beef as he throws the chair down. Kevin lurches up, ready to shove the little bastard, punch him, get  **_those eyes_ ** back on him, and only him-

_ Oh. _

**_-oh-_ **

**(what the fuck)**

Kevin blinks, glancing down at Beef’s wilting form, dribbling down the turnbuckle to pool helplessly on the mat. Kevin watches in fascination for a moment, before raising his eyes back up to stare into the hazel depths of Kevin’s fiery-

**_-Forever-_ **

“Siempre sobre nosotros…”

**Author's Note:**

> Context: there was this match, between Damian and Kevin. After the match (if I'm not badly misstaken, I believe Damian won) Beef came out and attacked Kevin, all pissed that Kevin and Generico were 'leaving' IWS and spending more time in PWG, ROH, and the like. Generico came out, to save his tag team partner (Beef and Generico were Team Photosynthesis, I think) but instead kicked Beef right in the mouth. It would have been a heel turn for anyone else, but Generico was Generico, so everyone just kinda rolled their eyes at the doomed puppy love. Beef eventually recruited Damian and they fought Steenerico (that's not just their ship name, that is actually what their tag team name was) and it all spiraled out of control from there.
> 
> Ain't wrestling grand?
> 
> Translation:  
> Siempre sobre nosotros- Always about us


End file.
